Cherreads

killer

I Became the Simp Character I Roasted Online

Listen to me closely. Never, and I mean NEVER, leave a hate comment on a game forum right before you die. My name used to be... well, it doesn't matter. I was a 34-year-old salaryman who died in the stupidest way possible. How? I got slapped to death for grabbing a high school girl’s "assets". Wait, hold on! Don't look at me like that! It wasn't my fault, okay? My hand just moved on its own! It was just a tiny, split-second intrusive thought! Come on, you guys reading this—don't act like saints. You’ve had those dark urges too, right? You’ve wanted to grab something forbidden at least once in your life, right?! RIGHT?! Anyway, she slapped me. So hard my soul literally ejected from my body. I thought that was the punishment. I was wrong. When I opened my eyes, I was in [Legends of Valtheris]. Yes, that trash game. The one with the cliché plot where the world ends because some teenage students get their hearts broken. And the worst part? I didn't become the Hero. I didn't become the Villain. I became Revan von Alstaire. The background character. The loser. The guy I literally insulted online five minutes before I died. I called him a "Simp" and laughed at his "Tiny D*ck." Fate is truly a comedian. Now, I’m destined to be the bullied lackey of the future Villainess, Sylvia von Vespera. The game script says I should lick her boots, accept her abuse, and die with her like a loyal dog. Screw that. Remember my last comment? "Revan is such a loser! Tiny dck! If I were you, instead of bowing down, I would squeeze her boobs and own her completely! Garbage character!" Well, it seems God took that personally. Fine. You want a show? I’ll give you a show. I won’t be a simp. I won’t filter my words anymore. I’ll let my intrusive thoughts win. I’ll turn this trash plot upside down—even if I have to slap every "Genius" in this academy to do it.
alvahraaaa · 112.1k Views

Nothing Happened Twice

On the morning of his eighteenth birthday a young man receives a letter from someone whose voice once formed the centre of his life. The letter describes an event that appears both precise and impossible. It speaks of a death, of a punishment carried out with deliberate patience, and of a past that refuses to remain where it belongs. Yet what unsettles him most is not the violence described within it, but the strange composure of the voice that addresses him. It writes as though the matter were already concluded, as though something long unfolding had finally reached its quiet end. Certain details resist explanation. Dates seem displaced. Memories shift in tone. The figure who writes to him feels at once intimately familiar and strangely distant, like a presence remembered from a dream whose meaning changes each time it is recalled. What begins as a letter gradually becomes something else: a point of disturbance in memory. Returning to the places and histories that shaped their childhood, he finds that recollection does not move in a straight line. Episodes once believed to be settled begin to reopen. Affections and injuries long buried reveal themselves as part of a pattern that may have been forming without his knowledge. The deeper he follows the thread left behind by the letter, the more uncertain the boundaries of the story become. Was the person who wrote it a witness, an executioner, or merely one of several selves produced by a life that could not be endured in a single voice. Nothing Happened Twice moves through the fragile territory between memory and invention, where the past is less a sequence of events than a structure slowly assembled in retrospect. At its centre lies the suspicion that what appears to be a beginning may already belong to a different moment entirely. Some stories open with a revelation. Others begin with the quiet sense that something has already been finished.
AurelRift · 1.1k Views